DrabbleShots: A Collection of Songfics
by xxArtemisxFowlxx
Summary: Five different Harry Potter pairings, five different songs used in what I call a Drabble-Shot; not a long one-shot, but bigger than a drabble. Current chapter: Narcissa Malfoy/Lucius Malfoy
1. Astoria & Draco

_(Rather long Author's Note; feel free to skip down if uninterested)_  
These past few weeks I have been struggling to find any writing inspiration. I can't tell you how many hours I've sat on my bed with a blank piece of paper and _nothing_ comes to mind. No spark, no storyline, _nothing_. Yesterday though, I was determined. I made myself come up with a prompt that would hopefully trigger some sparks. To my luck, it did :]

My prompt is this (and I'm sure it's been done before, but it came to my mind as an original prompt, so bear with me if you've heard of this before):  
In no particular order, write down five pairings from the Harry Potter series. Then put your mp3 player on shuffle and write down the first five songs that show up. Then you write a short songfic (I've decided to call them Drabble-Shots; not quite full length one-shots in my opinion, but much more than a drabble) for each pairing based on the corresponding song number.

As far as the style goes, this songfic is different compared to how I usually structure them; only used two verses of the song this time, decided to shoot for just getting across the general idea of the song being used :]

So without further author-noteness-ado, here is part one of my 5 part drabble-shots series!

Please leave your thoughts in a wonderful **review** :]

_-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx_

* * *

#1: 'Follow Me' by Uncle Kracker

**Straight Answers  
**An Astoria/Draco Drabble-Shot

* * *

_I'm not worried 'bout the ring you wear, 'cause as long as no one knows then nobody can care_

Astoria Nott sat at her desk on the _Daily Prophet_'s floor at the Ministry, a large brass placard bearing her name with the title 'Reporter' sitting atop the edges of various in-progress articles. The end of her pointed quill rest in her mouth as she once more scanned the final copy of a piece she hoped would make the prestigious front page spot.

"Am I early?"

Astoria nearly jumped out of her skin when her thoughts were interrupted by a smooth, drawling voice from the doorway. In her excitement she spilled a pot of ink, its oozing blackness spreading over her work. She began feeling around for her wand but the visitor easily withdrew his own and pointed it at the mess.

"_Scrillo_."

At his words the ink leaped from the parchment and filled the inkpot once again, leaving no trace that it had ever spilled.

"Thank-you," said Astoria as she cleared away her old articles and withdrew a fresh sheet of parchment. "I assume you are Mr. Draco Malfoy?"

"You assume correctly," he drawled once more, taking the chair she offered with a wave of her hand.

"My name is Astoria Nott, a reporter for the _Daily Prophet_," she recited.

"Obviously," replied Draco as he regarded her name plate with an air of amusement. She scribbled down his basic information as a tingle of red showed on her cheeks, hoping he wouldn't notice her embarrassment.

"Today I only want to ask you a few simple questions about your current involvement with—"

"Excuse me, but by chance are you related to the Greengrass family?" Astoria was caught off guard by his question, her quill pausing in its tracks.

"Why yes, it's my maiden name." She saw something twinkle in his eye, but wasn't sure what he could possibly be playing at. She waited, wondering if he would go on.

"Continue," Draco said when he noted her pause, waving his hand and settling back into the armchair comfortably.

"So as I was saying, could you tell me any thoughts you have on the new Muggle Co-operation Act that Mrs. Hermione Weasley has brought before the Wizengamot? I've heard her side, but I'd like a contrasting opinion as well."

"And what about your views?" Astoria shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"As a reporter it's not my place, Mr. Malfoy."

"But as an ordinary witch?" He seemed greatly entertained by the way she blushed and squirmed whenever he questioned her, his grey eyes glinting mischievously. Astoria was feeling very uncomfortable by it all; she was unsure as to who was really running this interview, but she thought it definitely was not her.

"Seeing as how I was raised a Greengrass, I'm fairly sure that disqualifies me to be an 'ordinary' witch, Mr. Malfoy," she replied smartly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"That it does," Draco answered, a smirk twisting the left corner of his mouth. Noticing that she was now leaning forward heavily on her desk, Astoria straightened up and squared away the blank pieces of parchment before her.

"Now," she said hoping to regain control over the interview, "your thoughts on Mrs. Weasley's proposed act?"

Draco looked out the window, perhaps deciding whether or not he was going to answer. Astoria waited, her quill resting patiently on the parchment. She was not ready, however, when he suddenly began to speak.

"The history of acts such as Mrs. Weasley's date back years to even my father and grandfather's time. As always, such proposed pieces of legality…" Astoria scribbled as fast as she could, quickly dipping the tip of her quill in the inkpot when necessary. He gave her no reprieve, her hand still scribbling long after he had finished his unexpected monologue.

She had leaned forward over her desk once again as she worked, resting her left arm on the upper left corner of the parchment while she finished copying down was she could remember of Draco's speech. She nearly knocked over her inkpot once more when cool fingers wrapped around her left hand.

"Astoria," Malfoy said smoothly, his thumb running over her fingertips as she snapped her dark head up from her notes.

"Astoria," he said again, almost purring with his drawl. She froze, her heart pausing in place as she waited tensely. What was he playing at?

"Are you…_happy_ with Theodore?"

Astoria wasn't sure what to say. Who was this man, who obviously knew her husband, and what business of his was it if she was _happy_ or not with Theodore? Anger boiled at her cheeks, but when she looked up into his face and saw his two cunning grey eyes, his mouth that was drawn back into a charming yet deceitful smirk, and felt the fingers that toyed with her marriage band, Astoria was at a loss for words. He grinned widely at her apprehension, only the tips of his teeth showing so that he gave the impression of a wolf. Ruffled, Astoria slightly regained her thoughts, but still didn't withdraw from his smooth, manicured hands as he brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

"Y-yes, of course; I love Theo," she breathed.

"Theodore doesn't have to know," Draco whispered in reply. "In fact, it's better that way…"

"What?" Astoria mouthed, but her stunned heart had choked her throat so that no words could escape. He wouldn't have noticed anyways; within a matter of moments he had his lips pressed against hers.

Now Astoria really was at a loss for words. She definitely couldn't say she _enjoyed_ it; after all, an unknown man was sliding his mouth all over her, a married woman's lips. But then if she didn't like it, why was she simply sitting there allowing it to happen?

Astoria couldn't do anything; her mind had completely frozen her body. For a second she wondered if Draco had somehow cast a freezing charm on her, but no—now that she mentally reached out, she _could_ wiggle her fingers in his grasp. Regaining her bearings she pulled away from him, completely at a loss for how long their ordeal had been going on.

As she stared at him afterwards she could practically feel the curse words she wanted to yell at him, with or without a wand. Yet she just _couldn't_. She knew it sounded absurd, crazy, and a flat out lie, but truth was Astoria couldn't bring it inside herself to scream at this handsome, wolfish, devilishly charming man. Taking advantage of her silence Malfoy grabbed the quill that she still had clutched in her right hand and dipped it in the inkpot, scratching out a few words on her notes. Then rising from his seat and releasing her left hand, Draco simply said,

"I prefer to eat around seven,"

Then walked out without another word.

Astoria stared at his empty seat for a few moments, still blindsided by what had just occurred. She then scrambled up from her seat and rushed to the door, arriving to see his black traveler's cloak swishing behind him as Draco made his way towards the Ministry elevator. She had every right in the world to hex him. For a brief second, the idea legitimately passed through her mind; then another thought occurred, striking her curiosity—what had he written on her notes?

Dashing back to her desk she picked up the piece of parchment, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear apprehensively as she read.

An address. He had written down his address for her in a fluid script that was much more elegant than her chicken-scratch notes. Now feeling the anger from before return she crumpled the parchment into a ball, throwing it madly at her office wall where it hit with a very unsatisfying soft _thump _before sliding to the ground. Once her mood had passed, Astoria picked the crumpled sheet off the ground and unfurled it, smoothing out the wrinkles. As she looked it over, Astoria noticed something that made her want to rip the sheet into little shreds.

Even after all that, she still hadn't been able to get his straight opinion on the Muggle Co-Operation Act.

* * *

Astoria never went to Draco Malfoy's manor. A wild part of her had considered it, even wanted it in some dark corner of her heart, but when she returned from work and settled into her home, her and Theodore Nott's wonderful house, Astoria decided to never think of or mention the ordeal again. When Theodore came home and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a kiss that was much warmer than Draco's, she felt that in his hold was where she truly belonged.

But yet when she saw a marriage announcement in the _Daily Prophet_only a few weeks later telling of Draco Malfoy's engagement to Pansy Parkinson, something deep down inside Astoria ached. And as she lay in bed that night next to Theodore, she wondered, just for a minute, what could have been between them had she gone over to his house that night after all.

…_I can guarantee you won't find nobody else like me_

* * *

Not my typical Astoria/Draco-romance and happiness story, but I felt like a change of pace would be good.

More to come! (And not only on this story...)

**Review**? :] You know you want to.

_-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx_


	2. Pansy & Nott

Much love to all who reviewed/favorited/alerted! You really give me that extra kick in the butt to keep my pen moving :D As a sidenote, I just wanted to let you know that the majority (if not all, I think) of these couples are more of the darker character pairings--not many courageous Gryffindors here! Just wanted to give you a heads up on the chapters to come :]

Keep **reviewing**! You do such a wonderful job :]

-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx

* * *

#2: 'Hold On' by Good Charlotte

**Better Than You Know  
**A Pansy/Nott DrabbleShot

* * *

_And you're not sure what you're looking for  
But you don't want to no more  
And you're not sure what you're waiting for  
But you don't want to no more_

Pansy Parkinson sat on a snow covered bench, a crumpled _Daily Prophet_ clipping in her hand and a sour grimace on her face. She hated the snow. In fact she hated cold weather completely. She hated the holiday decorations covering all of Britain, the snow-peaked tops of Hogwarts castle looming out in the distance, the freezing bench she was sitting on, and most importantly she hated pure-blood pretty-face Astoria Greengrass.

Another wave of anger rippled through Pansy, her thumbs pressing down so hard onto the clipping that the ink under her hands began to smear out of context. But she didn't care about the words; no, words were something you could easily skip over without another glance and have no clue as to their hurt. A picture, however… a picture leapt off the page, forcing you to notice it whether you wanted to or not.

And Pansy Parkinson would much rather have not noticed that picture.

There they were, the two of them. His arm around her shoulders and her arm wrapped behind his back. Naturally Death Eaters weren't exactly the ones the _Prophet_ wanted headlining papers, or even having their photographs inserted in small corners like the clipping she held. Unless they were being locked up for life in Azkaban, or better yet being executed, Death Eaters were not to be mentioned. And yet here he was, grey eyes and striking blond hair catching her eye the instant she'd opened the paper that morning.

Of course they _would_ be news—an ex-Death Eater planning to wed a muggle-sympathizer. Pansy knew they were only getting married because he Dark Lord had lost. Could you imagine one of his followers wedding one of the girls constantly being punished for trying to _help_ the mudbloods and blood traitors? They'd both have been murdered.

They wouldn't have stood a chance. No, Draco Malfoy would have been forced to follow the original plan, the _right_ plan. He would have betrothed her, Pansy Parkinson, instead. Her hands shook with anger, a small rip beginning to split the newspaper.

Pansy, the one who had mooned over him, slaved over him, did whatever she could to make him happy had been ignored. Astoria; stupid, beautiful, pale-skinned, blue-eyed _Astoria_ who had done _nothing_ compared to Pansy's years of devotion, had caught his attention. A girl two years younger than she had stolen the only thing Pansy cared about after the war. And she had done _nothing_. With a sharp tug Pansy split the couple's picture apart; she simply wouldn't have it!

The sound of crunching snow underfoot snapped Pansy from her angst-ridden world. Balling up the remainder of the _Daily Prophet_ engagement announcement Pansy torched it with a quiet spell from her wand, watching the hot cinders sink onto the layer of snow between her feet where they shriveled into dark ash.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to." Pansy turned in time to see Theodore Nott stroll into the clearing, hands shoved deep inside the warm pockets on the sides of his jacket. Without waiting for a response (which Pansy wouldn't have given anyway) he seated himself next to her, looking over the rolling snow-covered hills that separated them from Hogwarts. Theodore risked a glance at Pansy's stony face as she stared at the ground, her lips twisted as if she were tasting something sour. Taking in a deep breath and expelling the warm air so that the cold crystallized before his face, Nott turned to face her directly.

"Saw you reading the _Prophet_ earlier, during our shift," he started, deciding to dive right into the subject. "Suppose you saw it too?" Her continued silence was a more than adequate answer. Rubbing his hands inside his pockets uneasily, Theodore continued.

"Only to be expected, I guess. Wanting to get the Malfoy family name back into good standing, I'm sure—"

"It's not that at all," Pansy interjected unexpectedly, her voice dry from disuse. "Draco, he…" She didn't want to go on.

"He what?" Pansy shifted uneasily.

"He…he _loves_ her," she rasped in a low whisper, tears starting to cloud up her eyes. Wiping them away with belligerent swipes, Pansy resumed her façade of a stone statue. Theodore Nott let out a few more breaths, watching the steam float away. He had never been good at easing other people's pain; being a Slytherin, he usually caused it. Doing the one thing that seemed common sense at a time like this, he reached out and put his arm around her shoulders.

Pansy shifted uncomfortably, her stony face wrinkling with uncertainly at his touch. Theodore quickly retracted his arm, clasping his hands in between his knees as she dug her hands deeper into the warm pockets of her coat. Awkward silence stretched between them, Theodore pretending to busily watch the snow fall as Pansy looked dead-faced at the ground. Seconds turned into minutes and finally Theodore could take no more. Running his tongue over his winter-cracked lips, Nott turned to face her.

"So you really think he loves her?"

"More than me," replied Pansy with a sigh.

"And did he…love you?" Theodore quickly regretted asking such a question.

"Well if he had, do you think he'd have run off with that stupid little girl?"

"No, but—"

"Do you really think he'd have chosen that idiotic _pretty girl_ with absolutely _nothing_ in her head but thin air?"

"Well—"

"NO! But he _didn't_ love me! He still _doesn't_ love me! I was a fool to think he actually cared all those years!"

Theodore waited in shocked silence wondering why he had opened Pandora's Box so blindly. Pansy took in cold deep breaths, her cheeks still flushed red with anger. Then to his surprise she let out a short, dry laugh.

"But why would anybody care? Nobody cares… not anymore…" Then slumping her shoulders, she resumed her stooped position.

* * *

_Don't stop looking you're one step closer…_

"You're wrong." The words were out before Theodore had even thought about them. Pansy turned her lowered head and gave him a scathing look and another dry laugh.

"Don't tell me _you_ care, Nott. Don't lie to me."

"If I didn't care, why would I be sitting here?" Though Theodore spoke those words, he himself didn't exactly understand why he had searched for her after work. Pansy remained silent, but her eyes were looking away uncertainly. Staring at her, Theodore felt a familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach, something he'd always felt around her during their time at Hogwarts.

"You know, you're very beautiful yourself, Pansy."

"Quite lying; don't think I haven't heard those words before…" Pansy sat up and glared at him with her two green eyes, ones he thought reminded him of poison.

"I'm not him, Pansy," Theodore said as he laid a hand on her thigh. "I've never done anything to hurt you."

"Y-yes you have! You never told me he didn't really love me…" she said weakly as tears clouded her eyes once more. Angry that he would be held at fault for such a thing, Theodore stood up from the bench.

"Because you wouldn't listen. And you still won't." He began to walk away toward Hogsmeade, but a helpless voice held him back.

"Please don't go, Theodore…I'm…I'm sorry." Turning slowly, he saw tears running down her pale frozen face and felt the warm feeling from earlier manifest itself in his stomach once more. He slowly walked back over and took his seat again as she wiped the encroaching tears from her face.

Theodore placed his right hand on her leg. Then thinking better of it, he wrapped it tightly around her shoulders instead. Pansy turned to face him. A small smile formed itself on her dry lips. Nott ran his tongue over his own again before leaning in.

_Hold on…it gets better than you know…_

* * *

Ever since we found out Draco ends up marrying Astoria, I've become quite happy with assuming Pansy marries Theodore Nott. As Rowling mentioned on her site, he's very Draco-ish--pure-blood, sly, cunning, Slytherin--and so it seemed only natural to me that if Pansy had been left by Draco, she would reach out for someone similar to the person she still loved.

But those are my thoughts; what are _yours_?

Thanks for reading!

-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx


	3. Narcissa & Lucius

I am by far one of the worst constant updaters that I know! And for that I apologize, reviewers/readers/favoriters/general awesome people. Happy Belated Valentine's Day! It's my least favorite holiday, but I thought I'd mention it to you all anyways :]

I'd love to hear your thoughts :]

_-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx_

* * *

#3: 'Kryptonite' by 3 Doors Down

**My Kryptonite  
**A Narcissa/Lucius DrabbleShot

* * *

_I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon_

_I fear there's nothing I can do…_

Lucius Malfoy had never been considered an emotional man. All throughout his life he had hidden his feelings behind a calm, austere, and unemotional mask as taught by his father Abraxas. He could remember a time when at a young age he'd shown fear and sadness at the sight of his father viciously kicking a house elf; these inane feelings only led to Lucius receiving a blow himself. That day he had learned to put on his mask, and ever since he had rarely taken it off. Narcissa was one of the few people in his life who had ever removed that mask and truly seen what was underneath.

But there was nothing to be seen now--nothing but guilt.

Warm water splashed onto his hands as they trembled, a thin sheet of yellow parchment in his grip. Tears…Lucius couldn't remember the last time he had cried. The thought of facing Azkaban again…the slimy stone walls, the rat infested cells, the mossy, grime covered floors, and the hideous life-sucking dementors… all those ghouls came to mind as he recalled his past sentence in that godforsaken hell hole. Exhaling a shuddering breath, Lucius reread the opening line of the letter he now gripped…

_Mr. Lucius A. Malfoy,_

_As ordered by the Wizengamot under the decree of Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, you have been summoned to a trial due to your actions during the wizarding war…_

"_Not again_," Lucius thought, running a shaky hand through his already disheveled hair. "_It was hard enough for them the first time_…" By them he meant his family; Narcissa had collapsed onto the parlor sofa the first time he told her he had been summoned to an inquiry. Now, after the war was over, their house wrecked, gold greatly lessened, son in a state of dejection, and practically all sanity gone, Lucius wouldn't be surprised if his wife dropped dead when she heard the news.

His mind hurriedly ran over possible ways of avoiding the trial, but he knew any resistance would be futile. Running and hiding would only work for so long; people would want him captured, want him to face his crimes—the search party would be far too big to avoid forever. And he couldn't simply ditch Narcissa or Draco after all they'd been through together. No matter how much Narcissa loved him, Lucius was sure his wife would leave him if he put their family in jeopardy…again.

"Lucius…"

He jumped at the gentle sound of his name, not having heard someone sneak up behind him; he had never been so off-color in one day.

"Narcissa," he said softly in reply as his wife took a seat on the armrest of his chair, one of her delicate arms draping around his shoulders. He noticed two thin envelopes in his wife's hand with the unmistakable red Ministry of Magic seal ripped in half on each. From the look on his wife's face, it was easy to confirm what he had already deduced.

"They've summoned us, too," Narcissa murmured. "Draco and I have both received trial dates." Her voice was as smooth and casual as if she were only remarking upon a nice set of robes she had seen in a shop. Yet her face was cold, eyes lifeless as they stared passively down at the elegant antique rug lying beneath the armchair. Lucius looked away from her, gazing into the dying embers of the drawing room's fireplace. Ages seemed to pass…and then he felt water splash onto his arm. He looked up as Narcissa took in a ragged breath, her blue eyes squinted and drowning in tears. She quickly covered her dripping eyes behind a pale hand, ashamed to be showing such feelings. Lucius hated seeing her cry—it made him feel powerless as he watched the tears slip down her cheeks, knowing there was nothing he could do. Narcissa slid her hand down over her mouth to stifle her sobs, blue eyes now red and puffy.

"I don't want to go to Azkaban," she choked out, "and-and I don't want them to take Draco, either, or you……Lucius—oh Lucius, I'm afraid…" She wrapped her arms around his neck, falling partially into the seat with him. His thoughts were completely barren. Narcissa had never openly shown emotion like this, even when she had heard the Dark Lord wanted her son. Yet now she laid there on his lap, sobbing into his shoulder as he watched powerlessly. It was all his fault…but he could do nothing now…the family name would rot in Azkaban….all because of Lucius Malfoy.

* * *

_You called me strong, you called me weak, but still your secrets I will keep…_

"And you're sure Lucius never acted upon his own vindictiveness, Mrs. Malfoy? Can you not recall a time when he violently acted out without Voldemort's directions?"

Narcissa sat with her hands folded complacently in her lap, a large peacock feather hat perched stylishly on her head, and red lips stretched into a thin line. She sat in silence, steadily gazing down the Ministry interrogator seated across the table from her. _Had Lucius_ _ever acted out without the Dark Lord's instructions?_ Narcissa stifled an amused snort; of course he had! Yet what motive did she have to tell the Ministry official this—the so-called guarantee of her own freedom? As if she wanted to spend eternity locked away from her husband who would surely be sentenced upon her evidence. Besides that, Narcissa didn't like the look of this young, freckle-faced auror with the fresh audacity of calling the Dark Lord by his name now that he was deceased; though she had never fully agreed with Lord Voldemort's intentions, Narcissa did not take well to cowards who now threw his name about when they would not have dared such words merely weeks ago.

However, the Black family side of her began to rear its ugly, noble head, and satisfying thoughts of selling Lucius out for the slime he had been to their family during the war ensnared themselves in Narcissa's thoughts. After all, it _was_ Lucius's failure that had caused her only son Draco to be "gloriously hand-picked", as her sister Bellatrix had put it, for his life-threatening task against Dumbledore in his sixth year. It _had_ been Lucius who had lost them their house elf, the poor creature he had viciously kicked so many times…

_Oh, but you know you kicked him too, Narcissa…_

She shifted slightly in the uncomfortable wooden chair she had been seated in for this ungodly interview, fingers pulling the delicate white lace gloves from her hands and placing them upon the table. During the whole war, Narcissa had felt perpetually weak; it was no surprise Lucius had become the scapegoat for all things gone wrong in their family. Now Lucius needed his wife more than ever. This was no time to avenge wrongs committed against her or Draco during the war. It was time to be strong.

Lifting her pointed chin, Narcissa smirked slightly at the interrogator.

"I've no recollection of any actions to which you allude."

Laying her quill on the blank sheet of parchment beneath her, the Ministry official let out a soft sigh and shook her head slowly.

"You are impeccable, Mrs. Malfoy. I've no further questions; you may be released." Tilting her blue peacock feather hat in recognition, Narcissa gathered up her robes and left the room.

* * *

_If not for me then you'd be dead…_

The air inside the court room was stifled and humid, its inhabitants turning to talk in whispers with one another as they surveyed the empty arena-like space before them. Yet it wasn't entirely empty; a daunting and black cage stood in the center, its door open and awaiting its newest victim.

Narcissa sat on the first row closest to the ring, cooling herself with a small fan. Draco was seated next to his mother, gaze fixated upon the imposing ebony cage. A young girl Narcissa had seen only a few times was seated on the other side of Draco, her eyes, too, staring uneasily at the cage. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the girl lay her hand over her son's, reminding Narcissa of all the times she'd taken Lucius's hand to calm him. Just as her husband had done to her all those times, Draco seemed to ignore the touch, still focusing intently upon the arena. The girl squeezed his hand and let go, slipping her fingers back onto the folds of her robes.

Voices then came from the corridor leading into the bottom of the courtroom, shuffled footsteps becoming more distinct. From the tunnel a line of men emerged, among them a shackled Lucius Malfoy. Narcissa ashamedly turned her head when her husband came in, covering her face with the fan as tears came to her eyes. Ministry officials ushered her husband into the black cage and locked its door so that none could escape, but all could see in.

"Lucius A. Malfoy," boomed a voice from the judge's pulpit, "as decreed by the Wizengamot under the supervision of Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt, you have been given a fair trial concerning your questionable loyalty to the Ministry and common good during the wizarding war."

"_Common good_?" Narcissa inwardly mused. The definition of the "common good" was merely a personal viewpoint.

"After reviewing the evidence and weighing the circumstances against you," the judge continued on, "the Wizengamot hereby finds you guilty--" At his words most of the courtroom audience erupted into applause. Draco's hand snapped to his wand pocket as he leaned forward in agitation, but Narcissa quickly placed her hand over his arm and pulled him back into his seat. He gave his mother a wild look, but she simply shook her head.

"The Wizengamot hereby finds you guilty," the judge continued once the commotion had died down, "and sentences you, Lucius A. Malfoy, to twenty years of imprisonment to be served immediately in Azkaban Prison." At this Narcissa lost her composure and tears began to roll down her cheeks as Ministry officials unlocked the door to Lucius's cage and began to lead him down the stone corridor. Narcissa stumbled over the wall dividing her from her husband, pushing against guards who tried to block her way.

"Lucius—Lucius; please, let me see my husband," she mumbled through the tears as she felt Draco pushing along behind her, men garbed in black surrounding her. As the numbing sensation of a freezing charm collapsed Narcissa down onto her knees, she could only watch helplessly as Lucius was drug off. The back of his blond head was the last she would see of her husband for twenty long and desolate years.

_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?_

_If I'm alive and well, will you be there a-holding my hand?_

* * *

Well what do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts! :]

More to come :]

_-Jackie//xxArtemisxFowlxx_


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